


Weathering

by thewriteday



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F, basically angst and fluff, for other reason than because
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriteday/pseuds/thewriteday
Summary: Charity can't sleep. Vanessa knows. Set sometime post establishing of feelings.





	Weathering

There’s light on her face. It’s barely there: filtered through the rain-soaked window and splashing her cheeks like watercolour. It reminds her of one of the paintings Declan had hung up in his house - their home, her brain offers feebly – an approximation of some French artist she never bothered to learn the name of. Her brain threatens to follow this track into more rambling thoughts, still clinging to the promise of sleep.

But there isn’t sleep coming tonight. Not anymore. Vanessa had been up in the wee hours, checking in on Johnny when she heard him crying from his bedroom. Since then, Vanessa had fallen back asleep but Charity’s stayed awake.

She considers the fact that his cries hadn’t woken her up just another sign that she never belonged to motherhood. How it had wanted her, though. It seemed every nook and bump in her life was meant to force her into roles she’d never have chosen for herself.

Even this one. Even here, in Vanessa Woodfield’s bed, regarding the woman’s sleeping features dappled in moonlight.

And now it’s all she can think about. All of it. Every misstep and decision and change that has delivered her to this too-Good place, wearing Vanessa’s scent in her skin like she means it. Like they both do.

Feeling and meaning have never served her very well. More like, they’ve always steered her dangerously wrong.

She sits upright slowly, slipping her legs out from under the warm duvet and into the open air. Her skin immediately prickles with goose bumps but she barely feels it. She glances back at Vanessa; her soft face is covered in Charity’s shadow now. She wants to scoff at that. Seems too appropriate.

* * *

She’s pulling her fingers through her hair, tugging out knots. She’s gotten dressed (literally in the dark) as quietly as possible so as not to wake V. And really she should just leave her hair as-is, but she just can’t help fiddling with it.

So of course this is when Vanessa stirs in bed behind her.

“Charity? Iss’at you?” She says, her voice adorably sleep-heavy.

“Yeah it’s me. Just go back to sleep, babe.”

But she doesn’t. Vanessa rolls onto her side and pushes herself upright, her feet hanging off the side of the bed. The light is behind her now and it makes it hard for Charity to make out just what her expression is.

“You leaving?” Vanessa says, it comes out half croaking and she clears her throat and reaches for the water glass at her bedside. She takes a long sip.

Charity nods. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” Vanessa says, tonelessly, setting her glass back down.

“Both, probs.”

Vanessa reaches out a hand to her and Charity takes it, letting herself get pulled to the edge of bed. 

“Is it because of everything going on with Joe Tate? And Ross?”

Charity shrugs. She doesn't much care to have a conversation. Not when her feet are itching to be out the door. “I never sleep well, babe.”

“I know. But you usually stay anyway.” There’s such sweetness in her voice, like it could lure her in, like the space in bed beside her is the only place Charity needs to be. Standing this close, Charity can see her face again, even in the dark. The hope written there is a sharp object.

Charity pulls her hand from Vanessa’s and folds her arms across her chest. She avoids her gaze, choosing to fixate on the lamp on the bedside table.

“Well I have to go this time.”

“Why?”

“Because I do, okay?”

“No.” Vanessa’s voice is so firm and direct that it pierces her chest like a bullet. “No it isn’t okay, Charity. I know there is a lot going on in your life right now, but if you’re going to run, which I know is what you’re doing because you’ve got that face on, then you’re going to tell me why.”

“I don’t  _have_  to tell you  _anything_.” Charity practically growls and she regrets it as soon as it leaves her body. Her entire face goes cold.

“Are you done fighting me?” Vanessa says calmly.

Charity gives a curt nod and then takes a seat on the bed beside her. She takes a short breath in. “Why are you with me?”

Vanessa looks at her quizzically, as if assessing the behaviour of an animal. Charity’s seen that face when she’s visited her at work before. It’s a look of analysis. 

“You know why.”

Charity rolls her eyes. “Now who’s fighting who?”

She can see Vanessa’s face recalibrating. “Because I like you; I like being with you. You make me feel like me again. Like I’m not only a mum or a vet or a sister or daughter. I’m just myself.”

Charity looks away, won’t look at Vanessa. Can’t. Her chest is brimming with heat and hurt and hope and everything she hates. Everything that feels like  _almost_  something. She pushes it all down until she can form words - not the right ones, really, but any will do to fill the quiet.

“Being with you feels so far away from what my actual life is.” She says.  _So far from what I really deserve_ , she doesn’t say.

Vanessa’s tone is delicate. Like she’s approaching a horse that spooks easily. “Why? Because it’s good? Because it makes you happy?”

“Because sooner or later, everything I touch turns wrong, and maybe I don’t want that for you. Maybe I want one thing that I’ve touched to stay clean.” Charity is struggling to keep her voice steady. She can feel the wavering in her throat. It feels like an open threat.

When Vanessa speaks again, it’s gentle. “I won’t force you stay if you don’t want to.”

“I  _do_  want to! It’s weird, wanting to stay. Not usually my style, if I’m honest. I’m just… scared.” She finally looks at Vanessa’s face, meets her eyes, finds an openness there that makes her want to run. “And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Vanessa just looks Charity over for a minute, searching her. She wishes she knew what for, she wishes she could provide whatever it is. She wishes she were less empty.

Then Vanessa turns her body towards Charity and reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. The skin there prickles. All of it is so intimate; Charity had forgotten how this closeness could be so terrifying and comforting at the same time. “You scared me at first. But it wasn’t really you, it was everything at once – realizing that I wasn’t as straight as I thought I was, your history with my dad – it all felt too big. So I was afraid. But it’s just because it wasn't what I expected. And I was giving that fear legs to run around on. So I took away its legs.”

“Bit violent.” Charity adds before Vanessa gives her hair a tug to silence her.

“The other thing I figured out was that I just liked you. That it could be that simple. I could spend my time fearing and worrying about everything else, or I could just  _like_  you, and keep the fear separate.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Charity mutters.

“It isn’t. But it’s worth trying.”

* * *

An hour later, she’s back in the bed again. Hair re-mussed, clothes strewn, tucked tightly under the duvet. But it feels different this time.

The moonlight’s on her face again, but this time Vanessa’s eyes are open. They’re staring back into Charity’s. And Vanessa’s smiling, and somehow there’s light coming  _from_  her too. It’s a daft thought, but it stays all the same. And maybe it’s all right that way. Maybe, somehow, everything will turn out all right.


End file.
